


Attributes of an Ex Arch-Nemesis

by quinn_here



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Gay, Gay Sex, Love, M/M, Mages, POV Third Person, Romance, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Watford (Simon Snow)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinn_here/pseuds/quinn_here
Summary: Simon Snow has always hated Baz for his fangs, that blood, that way of living.... vampirism, he called it. But, Baz... well, when he'd found out what happened to Snow, his turning into a vamp and all, they both sort of had a change of heart. A shaky truce at best, but Snow didn't feel so alone.Baz felt like he was closer to Snow than he'd ever been before. He always fought with him because he had no way of expressing his feelings- both of being gay, and of liking Snow, who'd he been antagonizing since the crucible cast them as roommates. But now, as the mentor for Snow's new way of life, there was nothing stopping Baz from crossing the lines he'd drawn carefully so many years ago. Maybe now, he'd... well, maybe now he'd be alright.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	1. A Shaky Truce

Simon glanced around the hall. Baz would probably be back soon from his hunt, and he really didn't want to cross paths with _him_. He'd only gone out tonight because he was nearly certain that Baz would try to eat a human. But once Baz disappeared into the catacombs beneath Watford, he knew he wasn't a threat. Also... he was quite hungry (he was always hungry) and had homework to not do. Baz always did his work, and Penelope nagged Simon to be more like his roommate.

 **"Fall on deaf ears!"** Simon attempted to cast while opening the door to his room. 

"It didn't work." Lo and behold, Tyrannius Basilton Grimm-Pitch sat on his bed, book in hand and a smirk on his face. Simon's ears were tinged pink with embarassment.

"I thought-"

"That I'd be gone by now?" Baz tossed his book- one Simon was also required to read but had yet to begin- on his desk.

Simon huffed indignantly. "I was trying to be courteous."

The vampire scoffed. "You? Courteous? To me? We both know that you're just too afraid of my bite."

The blond was gonna go off. He could feel his fists clench and his mind buzz. His blood was really boiling. Baz actually looked a tad... frightened. "Snow-"

"I won't hurt you. Baz, I don't- I don't want to argue tonight. Please just leave me alone."

 _What happened to him?_ Baz's thoughts couldn't stop running. He felt flattered, though, that Simon had agreed not to go off on him. "What happened to you? If you need to yell at me, you can. I won't hurt you either."

The words were out of his mouth. Immediately he regretted it; Snow's original proposition of hospitality was only because of the spells cast on dormitory members- fighting is strictly prohibited and both involved parties are swiftly met with punishments.

Simon looked up at Baz, and his face looked soft. Baz could swim in that gaze of his, he really could. _Why am I thinking like that right now? That won't solve the issue!_

Baz sat down on his bed and nestled into his blanket, and though he was embarrassed that he'd interacted with Simon Snow in any form beyond a yelling match, he continued to face the mage across from him.

Simon gingerly sat on his bed and winced when it creaked. He was supposed to fix it awhile ago...

This kind of truce- a quiet, settled beast- hadn't ever existed between them before.The Chosen One's lips titled upwards.

"Well, now I'd feel too bad if I yelled at you, ya sorry bloke."

"I offered, Snow."

It got quiet, and before it became awkward, Simon sunk further down his mattress and slid his hands under his head. "If I tell you what happened, can we agree I never did?"

"What? Tell me?"

"Yeah."

"...okay." Baz wouldn't lie; he was a bit disheartened, but if Simon Snow was still truly willing to open up, Baz would take it.

"I-" His heart sunk deeper into his chest. He dragged his hands through his hair, gripping the ends of the locks and tugging. Baz could've pinned him to his mattress right there, and was glad for the blanket covering his lower half.

"I- maybe it'd be easier to show you." He pulled back the collar of his white undershirt, stretching the forest green sweater that covered it. If Baz hadn't been so focused on the distinct vampire bite mark, he might have been turned on. (He was definitely still turned on...)

"Crowley! Snow! A _vampire?!_ When did this happen?"

"Two nights ago." Simon's voice was hushed and far away, like walking by a theater and hearing the muffled sounds of a spectacle. His hands fell limply into his lap. "I thought he was gonna give me information about my mum, but Baz... I feel like I'm dying."

Baz immediately rose from his bed, alarm bells clanging inside his head. This boy was supposed to be his enemy, but... they had already called a truce tonight, and Baz could never forget his own first hunt. He was nearly caught sucking on an alley cat, and it sent him into such a panic that his parents had thought he'd watched a rated R film (which, he did do... but it wasn't very good anyways). His family was in on his 'secret-' they'd just assumed that because Baz was bitten so young, they could wait off the vampirism.

"You need blood. Right now. Stay here."

"Baz, what-"

"I can teach you how to hunt, okay? But right now, you really _are_ dying, and it's too late to throw a pity party. Your arse needs to stay in bed."

Snow actually rolled over, and Baz thought he'd need to spell him to the bed (one he'd practiced.... for no particular reason....) to get through to him. But the mage was clutching at his stomach, groaning softly, leaning over the bed in case he was to puke. It felt so bad the first time, Baz remembered.

"Spell me back in, Snow. I'll be quick."

He _was_ quick. Not even 20 minutes had passed, and Baz knocked on the door. He could get through the lobby doors fine, but bedrooms doors were locked with more complicated spells that required some of Snow's endless magic. He entered the room with a dead rat hidden in one of his deep trench coat pockets.

Simon was weak. He could barely sit up- Baz had to help him. When he held out the rat, Simon looked like he might actually vomit; Baz had to move it away from his face. But he couldn't run away now, like he always did when he followed Baz to the catacombs (he was always fully aware of Snow's whereabouts- an attribute of an arch-nemesis and all).

Gently, Baz set the rat in Snow's lap and showed him how to take a sip. Reluctantly, the blond dipped his head to the rat in his shaking hands and drank. The longer he drank, the more insistent he became- Baz had to pry the little corpse from his fingers. His face looked significantly more flushed, and Baz though t might've been a wonderful time to kiss him, but this wasn't a Hallmark movie.

Simon sat back, even though he felt- and knew he looked like- an absolute mess. Baz was looking at him weird, though. He kept glancing at his lips.

Snow's lips looked so soft.

"Baz, uh.... how- how do we.... go on from here?"

Shaking himself to the present, Baz backed away from Snow's bed and went to their shared washroom. He returned with a damp, warm rag to help Snow clean himself.

Not that he would be opposed to cleaning him... 

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I told you that I'd teach you how to hunt. And... I do stand by that. As much as I don't like you-" Baz's insides felt really tight and really wrong- "I don't want you to die. But you need to give me something in return."

Simon glanced up at him. "You know I don't have much... you have enough money, it couldn't be that... maybe you want notes for a class? But your grades are so much better than mine, too... Baz, what do you mean?"

Simon's head turned to him, and Baz was suddenly _far_ too close again. He stood straight. "You have to grant all my wishes until you're okay being a vampire on your own."

Snow's head swiveled to him, and he was balking. " _All_ of your wishes? What could you possibly want?"

For all of his bravado, Snow really hadn't been in on the privy all these years. Baz was maddeningly, hopelessly in love with him. The dark haired vamp lifted up the mage's chin. "There are things, Snow..."

His eyes were dark. They held promises that Baz wouldn't voice and Simon wouldn't hear, but... wanted to. He wanted to know. He chalked it up to his copiously childish amounts of curiosity and boredom. 

"Okay." It was a breath of air, pushed out onto Baz's lips. 

As much as Baz yearned to pin his roommate to his bed and do things to him that involved fixing the " **fall on deaf ears** " spell, he didn't want to scare him off. He'd already broken so many of his own rules tonight. So he forced himself to turn to his own bed, where he'd lie awake most of the night.


	2. Winter Break Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!!!
> 
> This is my first work on AO3, and I'm glad to see that over the first night I posted, I got some people who enjoyed it! I really hope you like it enough to stick around.
> 
> I don't really have anything planned for this fic, but I have a goal to finish it and make it worth every chapter. Maybe, if there's good enough feedback (the first chapter's kudos seem extra promising) I'll write a longer fic. Same characters or a different fandom, if anyone would like that.
> 
> If you have any ideas or want anything specific included in this fic, please leave a comment! I'd love to write your imagines and things. Also- for the more mature- any kinks/sex scene ideas are welcome. 
> 
> I appreciate you! :D

"Where are we going?" Simon's legs, though long and lanky, couldn't keep up with Baz's pace. He was in this in-between where he'd need to sprint every few paces, and it was starting to get annoying. Actually, it had gotten annoying before they'd even left the Mummer's House lobby, where Baz had refused to make eye contact with the prefect, presumably because of his sneaking around last night.

Baz even _blushed_ when they'd passed the older boy, and Simon didn't really know why he felt strange when he saw it.

Far ahead of him, Baz stopped at the yew trees that led to Watford's entrance. He took out his wand from his belt; it had been carefully tucked into the side over his red jumper, which was tucked into his dark gray uniform pants. "Just stand back, Snow. If I'm going to teach you how to hunt, it isn't going to be on these grounds. **Open Sesame!** " 

The gates to Watford swung open. Simon followed Baz, if only because of last night. Something had changed then, and... would he feel stupid for trusting Baz like this? Frankly, he _does_ feel stupid for trusting Baz like this- especially when he kept having intrusive thoughts about the lad in his bed. He'd never dare admit it, but he noticed Baz's glances at his lips last night, and saw what he could only assume was a bulge beneath his blankets. If he ever found out... Simon locks that thought in a corner of his mind and throws away the key. 

Baz _did_ feel bad for dragging Snow out of Watford, especially so late at night. He really had no intention of returning to the wretched place- his mind was elsewhere. And it would be winter break in three days; his classes could wait for now. He could admit he had ulterior motives- he wanted Simon in his room. He wanted him in his space, invading his breath...

_Settle down, now._

But Baz couldn't help it. He'd made some mistakes in his life, and that prefect was one of them. The prefect's eyes burned holes into Baz's back when he'd entered the lobby last night; a clear, distinct invitation that Baz avoided at all costs. He thought about settling with that lad, trying to enjoy a life he didn't really want. But Snow's face- red and angry and boiling, bubbly and happy and soft, his perfect curls and his far too loud laugh- all of it caught in his throat. He never once met the prefect without wishing it were Snow- without cursing himself for being too cowardly to confront him. "He'd rather fight you than fuck you, Baz, and you know it too."

Even thinking about the implications of such a thing made Baz a furiously blushing mess.

"Baz do you have a fever?" 

He cleared his throat guiltily. "Uh, sorry... I'm not feeling too well."

"I'd cast a healing spell, but they aren't really my specialty."

"Snow, _nothing_ is your specialty."

He hated that the stupid, pompous, rich brat was right.

Casually, Baz angled his head towards Snow. "You have nothing to do over the break, right?"

"You know the answer to that question. Why? Are you trying to rub in all of your glorious Christmas plans?" Snow said, shoving his numb fingers deeper into his pants pockets. Baz had the urge to tuck him under his arm. He didn't, though.

"No, nothing like that. But.... come to my place. For the holidays. You can stay in my room, and I can give you the first lesson tomorrow. You'll need to drink by then, anyways. Sound fair?"

Simon wanted to say that he mulled it over, thought long and hard about his decision, but he replied instantly. Baz hadn't even finished the "air" sound when Simon's quick 'yes' was out of his mouth.

The taller boy looked down at him, trying to hold back a grin. He didn't expect Snow to be so... enthusiastic. "Okay, then."

Simon felt like a fool. But he was a damn happy one. Baz had this look in his eyes, and he was sure it was the same thing he had- was it happiness? Surprise? He didn't know if he wanted to know what the look was, or what this feeling was. But it wasn't carefully masked contrition, or generations worth of anger. 

" **You're getting warmer**." Baz cast under his breath. For a few paces, Snow didn't seem to notice anything, but then he stopped bunching his hands in his jumper sleeves- the warming spell that Baz put on him taking effect.

Snow didn't mention it, thankfully; he just kept walking with a bounce in his step.

They reached Baz's manor after catching a bus- they couldn't risk being seen using spells in broad daylight now that they'd left Watford- and let themselves in through the front door. The vamp's family was notorious for hating Simon's guts, so Baz cast a quick **These aren't the droids you're looking for** to make Simon invisible.

The mage bounded up the stairs first, knowing where to go. He'd done some projects in this manor as a first year, and may have gotten into an.... altercation... with Baz... so he'd not seen much since then. But not much had really changed, either; heirloom tapestries hung in the dark oak dining room downstairs, the plush, red velvet curved sofa and giant reading chairs still sat before a massive hearth in the living room, and the manor's library was still over capacity- books were stacked in piles on the floor, on the table tops, _every_ where. The antique magical objects in a glass shelving unit still stood in the dining room with a few new additions (none of which Simon liked; they all seemed too dark). The carpeted stairs even felt the same, cushioning his steps as he reached the top.

Up in his room, Baz closed the door and cast **Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are!** Unsurprisingly, Simon was sprawled onto the couch- a spot claimed within seconds of getting here.

It was getting late. The first lesson, which was now postponed, loomed over the boys' heads, but tonight was theirs. Baz told Simon to wait, and went downstairs to grab them some slices of bread. It should hold them- more importantly, _Simon Snow-_ over until breakfast time, at which point Baz could reveal to his parents that he was home for break, assure them he hadn't gone absolutely mad (though, he was pretty sure he was too far gone by this point) and reveal Snow as his guest. That may be a bit awkward, but Snow's insatiable appetite wouldn't go unnoticed. It's not like Baz could really eat six oranges and four croissants by himself, so it made sense. 

Snow really _was_ going to his head, wasn't he? His parents were going to kill him. But, until then, he had a chance. 

"Nobody else is home, I checked when I went downstairs. Want to play some cards?"

"Yeah, sure." Simon sat up from the couch and moved to Baz's bed. It felt so much more intimate a place now, after the dust had settled between them. He couldn't tell if he was excited or terrified. Or both. But he was definitely horny, and tired, and grumpy.

"We don't have to if you don't want to, Snow."

Simon chewed his lip. He wanted to be here; it was a lot better than Watford over the holidays, where the halls were empty and everything was a lot more depressing.

"Well... what do you want to do?" Snow asked, looking up at Baz. His arms were crooked upwards on the pillows in a haphazard stance, and so _very_ pinnable. His lips were slightly parted (he was kind of a mouth breather) and looming over him, Baz couldn't help but enjoy the view. He liked Simon like this. Under him.

_Oh, fuck..._

Simon felt weak. He knew there was much that both of them weren't saying, but one thing was guaranteed: the path ahead involved both of them. So why keep trying to hate him? Simon couldn't even remember why they'd feuded for so long- not when Baz had proved himself to be a pretty nice bloke. A damn hot one, too. And those fangs...

Simon silently cursed himself. He inched a little closer to the edge of the bed, trying to distance himself from the heat radiating off of Baz. For someone so cold, he seemed unnaturally warm today.

Baz leaned over the mage and placed his hands beside Snow's arms, hovering close to his face. As he spoke, he felt himself slipping onto a tight, ever-thinning leash. "You can't ask me questions like that, Snow. There are far too many inappropriate answers." 

Simon could've died. His face was so sincere, and his _voice!_ That rasp, like he knew exactly what he was getting into and wasn't afraid in the least. "What if..."

He couldn't bring himself to muster the courage that Baz had. But the vamp was on a roll, now; intoxicated off of Simon's rare submission to him. This wasn't something he ever thought he'd get to do.

 _What am I doing?_ Simon asks himself, looking at Baz's lips and flicking his gaze lower... and lower.... and then meeting Baz's eyes. His cheeks flushed bright, tomato red, and Simon closed his eyes tight. _Maybe he didn't notice...?_

Baz leaned impossibly closer. His hands moved to pin Simon's arms- _finally!_ \- and the lad underneath him shuddered. His eyes were closed, and his brow was furrowed, but he didn't look scared.

Baz lifted off of him. "Maybe not tonight, but one day."

Simon shuddered again and rolled over, hoping for the next day's lesson to ease the tension in the atmosphere. He was eagerly awaiting Baz's first wish, and he had some ideas about what it was. All of them involved lips... hands... teeth, tongue... 

He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing desperately that they were Baz's, and endlessly cursing the new, unexpected changes in his heart. Because there were definitely changes, and Simon didn't know if denying them would get him anywhere. Not anymore, with the vamp's last declaration: 'Maybe not tonight, but one day.'

Oh, crowley.


	3. The First Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh!!!! Hello again!
> 
> I'm so sorry I didn't upload a chapter last night- I got home late from work because I went ice skating! I only fell once, but my pride is deeply rued. Probably because I went alone, so I didn't have anyone to fall with. :,) *Distant sniffling*
> 
> I hope everyone is doing okay today! I'm trying to upload as often as possible- every day if I can manage it- because it's NaNoWriMo! 
> 
> MATURE SCENES START NOW.
> 
> Love, Quinn xX

Simon felt weird, waking up in Baz's bed. In _his_ bed, in _his_ room. He rolled over to face the left spot where Baz was snoring quietly- the alarm clock was on his nightstand. But as soon as he turned over, his face was an inch from Baz's, and he had to sit up just so he could breathe.

"Mmm... s'it morning, Snow? Go back to bed... s'probably not time yet," Baz grumbled.

_He's so cute!_

Simon couldn't help himself- he gently brushed Baz's hair out of his face and placed a chaste kiss on his temple. After a few moments, Baz opened one eye, still groggy and confused, and smiled up at Snow with half his face squished in the pillow.

"You really ought to get more sleep before today, Snow."

_His voice was so sexy in the morning..._

Simon blushed and turned away from the vamp laying strewn over his bed, approaching Baz's wardrobe- a large armoire antique next to the washroom threshold. "You've never let me sleep in _once_ , Basilton. It'd be odd of you to start now. I'm going to borrow some of your clothes- you never let me pack any."

"I have a toothbrush in the bottom of the cabinet, too, Snow. May as well keep it in the cup now, since you'll be here until the end of the break."

Snow's neck turned bright red, and Baz coughed to cover up a chuckle. The mage turned his head to glare at him, then stomped into the washroom and slammed the door with a bundle of random clothing in his arms. 

Baz rubbed his hands over his face. He felt like he was really losing his mind- after so many years of pining, he finally had Snow in his house again. In his _bed_ , no less. And things were looking up for them. Baz now knew what he wanted from Snow, in exchange for the first lesson. Thinking about teaching Snow how to be a vampire gave him chills. He'd get to be so close to him, but he was really worried... _will Snow be disgusted by this? By_ me _?_

He was open about his... distaste... for vampirism for so long. Baz didn't want to think about it. It's not like Snow could reverse being bitten, so he'd have to live with it now.

When Snow opened the bathroom door, only his head poked out. Baz groaned inwardly. He was already dreaming of mornings like this forever, but that was such an impossibility. Though... with Snow's reactions to Baz's advances, he wasn't so sure anymore. And Baz was almost certain that he'd dreamed it, but Snow had touched him so tenderly... the kiss on his temple was quick, but it was more from Snow than he could ever dream of having. If a dream like that had even the smallest chance of being real....

_He'd be mine, not matter how long it took._

"Um, Baz..." 

Simon wanted to die of embarrassment. In his haste to escape Baz's eyes boring into his back earlier, and his intentions giving Simon shivers in his core, he just barely managed to shove a few things into his arms before locking himself in the loo. His brain was in scrambles; his cock was standing ramrod straight just at the _sound_ of Baz's husky morning voice. He pulled the toothbrush out of the cabinet under the sink, and used Baz's toothpaste to freshen up. He splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He slept better last night than he had in years- and the bags under his eyes were not as prominent as they were. 

He looked down at his underwear. There was a little wet spot, and Simon sighed exasperatedly towards the ceiling. He shoved off the pair of underwear, and sifted through the clothes, throwing his own garments on the floor. But then he encountered a slightly major problem. _Where are the pants?_

He unfurled the clothing and laid it all out so he could see precisely what he grabbed. He had two shirts. That was all he grabbed.

_How could I be that stupid? This will cost me my pride..._

Luckily, the shirt covered his privates- barely, but just enough. He didn't even have underwear now, and he wanted to off himself before asking for a pair, but... it was his only option now, unless he wanted to go commando. 

"Um, Baz..."

The vamp was sitting up against the pillows, staring at his hands. Waiting, it seemed. Simon blushed fiercely. "I... have a problem."

Baz's eyes were clouded with worry. "What happened? If you broke something, it's okay. My father isn't here to kick you out."

Simon looked at the ground. "No... uh.... I. Um. Sorry, crowley, this... okay. Ididn'tgrabanypantsandalsoIneedunderwear."

Baz was silent for a moment, trying to understand. "Oh."

Then he understood. "OH. Okay. Um, stay there." 

He stood up and shuffled over to his dresser, across the room from the bed. When he turned around with a pair of joggers and undies, the lad was standing in the room, a t-shirt covering just enough of him...

Baz could imagine the rest, easily. But he didn't have to. Snow moved to step forward and accept the clothes, and his cock was out in the open- red and hard and... it must've been morning wood, that's all. 

Either way, it would be a very, _very_ long break. 

Snow finally realized what Baz was staring at and shoved the new clothes over his groin to cover it.

"Oh, fuck... I'm so sorry, Baz," Snow sputtered and turned around to run back to the washroom. When he did, Baz could see his ass, and _crowley_ he wished he could get control of this situation but... Simon Snow had a bulging cock and a cute little bubble butt. 

Baz went to the bathroom downstairs. He wasn't even ashamed anymore; he fapped to the image of a naked Simon Snow.

Simon locked himself in the loo again, and heard Baz leave the room. He hadn't looked disgusted, though; in fact... he looked like he could fuck Simon right there, with his eyes. Simon told himself he would only do it once. And this was a necessity- if he didn't get rid of this hard-on, he'd have to face Baz with it. And, ultimately, endure more embarrassment than this dreadful morning. So he took hold of his aching cock and began to stroke, with Baz's face burned into his mind.

Standing in the forest behind the Grimm-Pitch manor (which had remained gloriously empty- all the rest of the Pitches decided to stay the entire break at their winter lodge farther north, but Baz had declined the invitation to join them) the mage and the vampire began the First Lesson of Vampirism: Debunking Myths. This involved Baz informing Snow of all the stupid things that vampires can actually do, despite the movies that Snow grew up watching telling kids that vampires couldn't eat garlic or appear in mirrors. 

"This is bloody boring," Simon groaned, laying back in the grass beside Baz. They were staring up at the sky for this lesson, because neither of them wanted to face each other.

"It's important, Snow. Do you want to just skip it and practice spells?" Baz was being sarcastic.

"I certainly do!" But Simon was being genuine.

"Then get your arse up. En guarde, Snow!" Baz hopped up from the grass and pulled his wand from his belt.

"'En guarde'? What are we, knights?" 

Baz ignored him and turned on the offensive, with sure footing and fine maneuvering. Simon couldn't believe his body moved like that. 

" **Hell Hath No Fury!** " Baz cast. Fire spit from the tip of his wand and burst towards Snow, who dodged it but lost his momentum. He swung his arms out and stayed upright, but now he had a maniacal glint to his eyes. He pulled his wand from his own belt and pointed it at himself.

" **Into Thin Air!** " Simon cast, and disappeared, as expected, into thin air.

"Snow, never point your wand at yourself," Baz scolded, circling where he assumed Simon was. 

"It worked, didn't it?" There- to his left. What an idiot.

" **Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are!** " Baz cast, and Simon appeared again. "Don't you want to know my wish?"

"Are you too afraid to actually fight me?" Simon countered.

"Are _you_ too afraid to actually face me?" Baz spat.

Simon's ego definitely took a hit. "I'm not afraid of you, Baz! You're weak!"

He didn't mean it. Baz wouldn't know that, though. And he definitely looked taken aback.

" **Buzz off!** " Baz hissed, and Simon jolted back a few steps.

"You really want to go there? How many times have I beaten you in battle, Baz? How many times?" Simon charged forward, his feet causing the grass to burn into footprints beneath him. He was gonna go off.

"You think just because you're full of magic that you're better than any other mage! But you have _absolutely no control_ , Snow!"

His eyes looked panicky and sorrowful and sort of resigned. But then he was angry. His fists balled up and then he turned bright... so bright. Any second now, the forest would be nothing more than ashes and remnants of what once was.

Baz didn't want to fight with him. He didn't even know why they _were_ fighting. 

"My wish is a kiss. That's what you owe me, for today's lesson."

Snow's magic sputtered, but he was still fuming. "Why would I kiss _you_?"

Frowning, Baz stomped towards the mage and shoved him up against the giant fir tree looming behind him. He connected their mouths and pressed himself against Snow, shoving his knee into Snow’s clothed cock so he could rub against it. He moaned into Baz's mouth.

Baz held up Snow's hands and cast " **Resistance is futile!"** to bind his wrists in that position. He felt Snow's cock grow erect, and pulse every so often. His face was absolutely beet red, and he refused to face Baz.

" **Your Attention Please!** " Baz cast, and immediately Snow's face focused on him. He closed his eyes, but Baz clicked his tongue. "Look at me, Snow."

"Mmmm... ahhhh, Baz, oh fuck..." 

_He's really into it._ Baz grinned.

He leaned in close to the mage who had started rubbing his cock on Baz's thigh, aching for connection.

Pre-cum leaked from his tip, and he felt bad because these weren't his undies, but... it was Baz's fault anyways, so why should he care? He was utterly mortified, and so desperate... if he could just get some purchase, he might be able to cum.

"Na-ah, Snow." Baz lifted his thigh so Snow was grinding against air, a whimpering and stuttering mess. "Beg. Beg me to forgive you. Tell me what you want. If you don't want this, we walk away like it never happened. But if you want this..." Baz looked him straight in the eye. "Then we'll get to have fun. It's your choice."

Snow felt like this was a little unfair. How could Baz be so hot and so cruel at the same time? Also, what was he saying? If he could just get a little closer to the edge...

"Well, what do you say?"

"Yes.... mmm.... ah, please, please, Baz, come on..." Simon arched his back and ground his cock into Baz's thigh harder. He was so, so close. He couldn't think straight.

Not like any of this was _straight_ , necessarily...

"Please, I'm sorry, I know I was being a prick, but you gotta... nnnn... ohhhh haaa, I'm so close, Baz, please," Simon moaned, sweat dotting his forehead. 

"Can I touch you?" Baz asks, and his hand- which had been exploring Snow's wide expanse of a stomach- slowed near his waistband. 

"Yes, oh, please- please, Baz, you gotta give me this..."

Baz could die happy hearing those words. But he couldn't die just yet, because Snow just gave him permission...

To do _this_. 

He shoved his hands under the joggers and the undies, taking Snow's cock in his hand. It was so firm, and it was hot and sticky from his steadily growing arousal. Baz had a good idea for a spell. But he had to make Snow ready first.

He shoved down the stupid, confounding clothing, running his left hand up to Snow's nipples and plucking them. He moved his mouth to replace his hand, and placed his left middle finger over Snow's back entrance.

Just barely brushing the pad of his finger over the little puckered hole, Snow let out a loud moan. "Please, stop teasing... oh, fuck..."

With that, Baz pushed his finger inside of Snow. He jolted, bringing their bodies closer together and Baz's clothed groin met Snow's raw, naked, bulging prick. Snow shuddered involuntarily.

"I'm gonna cum, Baz," Snow said, and Baz grinned.

" **Hold Your Horses!** " Baz cast, and Snow's eyes bulged. He couldn't... he couldn't cum. He was right there, and he felt like he was going to, but he _couldn't._

"Can't have you staining my clothes, can we?" Baz loved his life. He really did.

Simon wanted to tackle Baz, but he was still pinned. The vamp spelled him out of the restraints, cast **Out, Out, Damned Spot** to clean up the lad, and grinned at him.

Simon, though still panting from the exertion, glared at Baz before gripping the back of his neck and shoving his tongue into his mouth. The kiss was hasty, but lovely.

"I've been in love with you for so long, Snow."

Simon looked up at Baz, sans a spell this time. He wanted to see this face- this beautiful face which he had taken for granted for so many years.

"Why just now do you tell me?"

"Because... Snow, I never wanted to risk losing you."

Simon huffed out a laugh. "You're such an idiot. You should have just kissed me years ago. I think a lot of our fights would have ended just as absurdly as they did today."

Baz smiled, bright and foolishly and hopefully. "How could I be so sure you wouldn't punch me?"

"Well, that's for the old Simon and Baz to figure out. Now that you know I won't punch you..."

Baz raised a brow. Simon bit his lip.

They both leaned in this time. There was so much passion that it was tangible. 

Forget soaring on Cloud 9 if Basilton Grimm-Pitch was here, because _hot damn_.


	4. Insecurities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)
> 
> I hope you guys liked the last chapter! I didn't have smut planned for it, but then it happened... just like real life. Ah, what a shame. I was gonna make you guys suffer for a little longer, but you horny idiots got a taste pretty early on.
> 
> I still feel bad for not uploading on Sunday, so I may post two chapters in the upcoming days. It could be today, if I have the time (I might not, but we'll see. I work tomorrow right after class, so I definitely won't have time then, but.... today I might make it).
> 
> Enjoy, loves!
> 
> Quinn xX

Baz woke up before Simon this time. His arm was curled around the mage sleeping soundly beside him, his curls a complete mess atop his head. His mouth was open, even in his sleep, and Baz couldn't help but smile at the sight. 

Last night, Baz hadn't let them get too far. He wanted to savor the moment when he could make Simon completely and utterly _his_ , with every cell, every brush of their fingers and electrifying contact. He wanted his soul branded with evidence of Snow. It already felt like the barren winter inside of his chest was blooming into the most brilliant spring. And... it worried him. This kind of happiness, this life that he had yearned for since their first year at Watford... he didn't want to lose this happiness. Because even if the spring inside his chest was beautiful, autumn was always waiting to strip the leaves from the trees.

Baz gently eased out of his hold on Simon and climbed down off the bed. He padded downstairs to the library, where the grand piano took up residence by a circular, windowed alcove. The lights weren't on in the library, but the early dawn shone through the windows. It would be enough.

When Baz sat down and placed his fingers on the keys, it really was like a film; he couldn't see anything beyond the notes lilting through his head, chord progressions melding together until they made proper sounds, beautiful sounds. Kind of like Simon's moans. He started to play.

Simon woke up, and the bed was cooling down beside him. He didn't feel weird waking up in this room, now, but... he did feel disappointed that Baz wasn't there. That is, until he heard the muffled sound of piano keys, the octaves shifting to accompany the sounds, the pump of the pedal reverberating the noise throughout the house. It was stunning. There was no other way to put it, really. And it kind of made Simon sad. Baz had such potential in music, and in magic, and in.... well, anything. But Baz hadn't ever shown as much confidence as he had these last few days- not when it came to getting something he really wanted. Simon knew the vamp well, and he knew that Baz wouldn't ever go for something unless it was part of his script. 

Slowly, Simon slipped downstairs, skipping the creaky steps that he now knew all too well. His bare feet made near-inaudible slaps on the dark oak flooring, but the piano concerto wafting from the library doors masked his sounds.

He stopped at the threshold, closed his eyes, and listened.

It was speeding up. This was the climax of the piece, and it had always been Baz's favorite part. The crescendo reminded him of his own life... one giant hill; once he reached the top, he'd plummet all the way back to the start. It was why he was so scared of loving Snow. Of having Snow love him back.

His fingers had been steady, masterful and skilled, and he slammed the keys on the way up the rising action of this wordless story. But right when it was all supposed to come crashing down, his fingers placated right above the keys. It was such an abrupt stop, but... he couldn't bring himself to play anymore.

"Why did you pause?"

Baz jolted on the bench, the lightening dawn illuminating the golden curls staring at him from the library archway. He was beautiful, especially like this.

"I stopped."

"You can still continue. Nothing is ever really 'stopped' is it? You always have the option, the choice, to keep going."

Baz really looked at him. Simon stood there in Baz's nightshirt (he has undies this time!) and gave Baz a small, sad smile. Whatever was going on in the vamp's head, it was holding him back. All of that potential building up... it killed Simon not to bask in that kind of glory. They were opposites in that regard- Simon, consistently going off, always proving he's gotten smarter and stronger and _better,_ and Baz, holding himself back with invisible restraints and telling himself that he's useless. 

Simon would never consider him useless. Even when he hated the bloke, he never called him _useless_. 

Baz looked away from Snow. _He's so confident. He's going to be successful, unlike me._

Snow grabbed Baz's chin- it startled him, as he hadn't heard him walk up- and kissed him. He wove his tongue in his mouth, and this kiss wasn't hasty or lust-filled, it wasn't tension and pressure and burning heat. It was warmth, and reassurance, and _love_.

"Finish the piece, Baz. I want to hear it. Do it for me."

_Do it for me._

Those words... they could be a spell, if he had put magic in it.

 _For you, Simon Snow, I'd do_ _anything_.

His fingers met the keys again, and he was grinning.

Simon sat at the table, watching Baz through the half wall that separated the kitchen and dining room. He looked focused, gathering vegetables together and coming up with a masterful plan for breakfast. Simon told him if he didn't include pancakes, he'd have to find a convenience store himself. _Vegetables, this early in the morning? Come on, Baz!_

Baz's face was beautiful. He was worth feeling stupid for- he was worth living and dying for. He was worth _fighting_ for.

His lips were so soft, his caresses were so gentle... he always asked permission in-between breathless panting, and he always stayed through the night (even when he woke up early to pour his sorrows into a piano forte). If these were the attributes of Simon's ex-arch-nemesis, well... he couldn't understand why Baz was ever his enemy at all.

Love doesn't fix everything. Simon knows that. But loving Baz is better than hating him. Hell, loving Baz is better than anything this shoddy world offers.

"Okay... pancakes may be easier..."

Simon laughed, loud and hearty, whooping and throwing a fist in the air. "I told you! Pancakes, my love! Pancakes it is! Vegetables are a disgrace!"

Baz walked around the half wall to stand in front of Snow at the table. "Say that again."

"What? Vegetables are a disgrace?"

"No. Call me your love."

Snow's eyes got soft. He pulled Baz's neck down so his forehead rested against his. Their breaths mingled in the space between them. "Baz. Basilton Grimm-Pitch. You are my love. I love you."

Baz had tears in his eyes. "Say it again, Snow."

"I love you-" Snow kissed his right eyelid- "I love you-" then his left- "I love you," then his mouth.

Baz kissed him back. "I love you too, Simon Snow."

The rest of the day was easy. Simon and Baz both needed to hunt, but Baz told him that was their next lesson, so they'd need to wait another two days. He hunted for both of them. But he was silent the whole... "meal." 

"Baz, what's wrong?"

He looked up. His face was more ashen than usual, for his vampirism and all. He looked... scared.

"Snow..."

"Tell me." 

"It's... it's the Humdrum. He's looking for you." 


	5. The Humdrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for some feedback on my work! I don't really have anyone to turn to who can give me criticisms or comments, and I really need the help. I can't entirely tell if people are enjoying the fic or if they're zoning out.
> 
> But if, by chance, you're reading this and you are willing to chat, please leave a comment. It helps me so unbelievably much.
> 
> Thanks (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> Quinn xX

"The Humdrum?" Simon could feel it, then- a dead spot. One that must have been growing for awhile now.

"Yes." Baz looked like he might puke.

"Give me a moment," Simon said, standing from the spot on the rug. Baz's sheets were all rumpled, his closet had been ransacked, and cards littered the wooden floor- all because of Simon. He hoped that these pieces of evidence- proof that he lived, and breathed, and existed- stayed close to Baz's heart.

"Snow, what are you...?"

"I'm going to say hello to my old friend." His face was set. Whatever the Humdrum needed- he'd give it. He wanted this battle to be over.

It had taken Simon far too long to figure out that the Mage was his father, and even longer to figure out that his motives were skewed. Simon was his lab rat. His over glorified magic toy. The Mage had died when Simon went off last time. He didn't even feel sorry about it.

But the Humdrum was still watching, still waiting, for the magic in the little blond boy. And Simon was here.... in the Pitch manor.

_I have to keep Baz safe._

  
"Snow, what are you doing? Stop! You know you can't go out there. _He will kill you."_

Baz was shaking him. His hands were really cold. Simon looked him in the eyes. "I know. Baz, I... I've known this for awhile, but..."

 _"But what, Snow?"_ He was hysterical. His grip was so tight. Simon felt himself shattering, and when he glanced down at his hands, his veins were glowing. Usually when he went off, _all_ of his skin glowed. But this... it was his unmaking.

"I have to die, Baz."

" _No you don't!_ Don't you dare talk like that! Simon Snow, you're the _hero_! You're the Chosen One! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO'S SUPPOSED TO _LIVE_!"

"Not in this story, Baz... if I want to kill the Humdrum, I have to kill myself, too." 

Snow's voice was so quiet. He had already been defeated.

"When he didn't die with the Mage, I knew. I figured it out, after awhile. He's _me_ , Baz. The Humdrum is _myself_. It's my soul, split into little pieces. I have to slowly wreck myself in order to save this world."

"Is the world even worth saving, Snow? Why can't you just stay with me?" Baz's hands cupped Snow's hips and gripped onto him, as if he would float away.

"Because _you're_ worth saving, Baz." Simon leaned in and kissed Baz, gently and tenderly, on his lips. Then on his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks.

And then he turned away from the vampire who stood in the lobby, shaking and crying. His veins were still glowing. This was the end.

It was so cold outside. It felt like he couldn't breathe, with the dead spot siphoning away the magic balled into Simon's core. The wind was loud, raucous, whistling and biting.

It felt empty, here, even with the earth trying to scream that it was a witness.

The Humdrum sat on a branch at the far end of the forest. He waited. He had been patient his whole life. That's why he was successful.

Baz watched Snow enter the gargantuan fir tree forest behind his house. He knew this day would come. And he had been preparing for it since he knew he was in love with Simon Snow.

Simon found him. He was bouncing a red ball that Simon had when he was younger- and he took the form of Snow's younger self. He did this every time. 

"Let's end this." Snow's voice felt foreign to himself. It came out a lot more quiet that he intended.

"You don't want to play a game of catch first?" The Humdrum smirked and threw the ball at his chest. It slammed into him as if it weighed more than a bowling ball, and sent him flying backwards. Something in his spine splintered and his shoulder burst out of place against the fir tree behind him. He sunk to his knees.

"SNOW!"

Simon whipped his head towards the sound. _There_.

_Baz, I'm going to kill you if you don't get yourself killed first. Do you ever fucking listen?_

The vamp starting bolting towards the Humdrum, his wand in his hand. 

_Clearly not..._

But it was a dead zone.... why would he need his wand...?

And then he knew. 

"Baz, don't you _fucking dare_ -"

_He caught on early for someone so thick._

Baz kept sprinting towards the Humdrum. Incantations kept falling from his lips, even though he knew they wouldn't work. 

If Baz could just _touch_ him, he might be able to suck up some of the endless magic that pooled inside of him. He would be weak. And then he would die, and all of this would be over.

The Humdrum kept approaching Snow, even though the vamp was barreling towards him. Baz reached him just before he pounced on Snow, who was still trying to stand up. Something was vitally wrong. He should have stood up by now.

Baz yanked on the Humdrum's hand. The magic being turned to roar at him, with a kid version of Snow's face, and it was a little funny looking, honestly. But Baz didn't falter: he interrupted the flow of whatever powerful magic buzzed through this thing's blood, shoving into his very being. The magic transferred.

"Baz! BAZ!" They were muffled screams. His eyes were closed as he focused on taking as much from this beast as he could. If it wouldn't save them, then it would satisfy Baz that he had tried to take something from the Humdrum. A revenge plot... that's what it was. A vendetta.

Simon knows what he's trying to do. But it could very well kill him. He couldn't stand. Everything hurt. 

Baz looks up at Simon, his hand in the Humdrum's, and he lets go. Raising his right hand, still clutching his wand, huffing from the undiluted power coursing through him, Baz turns to the Humdrum. He makes a promise.

"I'm going to kill you."

Baz casts **Fuck Off and Die!**

In his peripheral vision, Snow keeps attempting to stand up. But now there's vigor to it.

_The spell-_

_It's because the Humdrum really is him. Damnit, Snow._

The Humdrum's eyes gloss over, and he starts walking away. But Snow is still trying to stand up, too. He was going to die, and it would be Baz's fault.

"Stop it, Snow! Snap out of it!"

Baz finally reached him, the beautiful golden boy. He had only managed a step, but his eyes started to close and his limbs were falling loose- Baz had to lay him gently on the cold earth.

" _NO! SNOW!_ Come back to me, **please please** ," Baz was saying, Snow strewn over his lap, his head lolling to the side as if he were already gone.

" **I love you,** Snow, **please, please, please** come back..." His eyes were shut so tight they hurt.

It didn't feel empty anymore in the woods, but Baz felt completely sucked dry.

This was all his fault.

Snow's breath hitched, and like an engine on an old car, he coughed and wheezed and sputtered back to life.

Baz gasped and opened his eyes wide, tears streaming down his face. Snow gave a weak chuckle, stretching his palm towards the vamp's cheek. "You're such a reckless idiot."

"Normally I'm telling you that. I can't believe it worked..." Baz grasped his hand and pressed a kiss to each finger, then directly over the lines in his palm. His veins weren't glowing anymore.

"How did you even manage that?"

"I... have no idea. I think it was because of the Humdrum, actually, when I took his magic... it must have poured into my words on accident. I really thought you were gone, Snow."

"Well, I'm still here. Sucks to be him now, huh?" Simon smiled up at Baz.

He laughed and leaned down to kiss him.

Then a voice spoke, from a pocket of elsewhere... it sounded like it came from every angle of the woods, pressing in on both of the boys. "Though it may be unfortunate that a vampire managed to steal from me to save _you_ , Simon Snow, you still know how this will end. When it's all over, maybe your little vampire friend will cast **April Showers** over your grave."

Simon looked up at Baz.

" **Fuck off!** " The mage screamed into the night air. It was silent.

It was silent for the entire walk back to the manor. Baz had, through his accidental spell, healed Snow's injuries caused by the Humdrum's ball. But now he was able to stomp back to the house, and Baz was kinda wishing the spell would've left him injured a little longer.

_Damn, he's so intimidating..._

And yet, something about the way Snow stormed into the house and up the stairs tickled a part of him. Was this what would happen when they were older, and Baz forgot to take out the bin or wash some dishes? It was a comical idea, really.

Baz was so hopelessly in love.

As soon as the boys entered Baz's room and the door softly clicked shut, they whirled on each other.

"You could have _died_ -"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me-"

Baz huffed, plopping down on the couch. "You first."

"Basilton Grimm-Pitch, you could have died. I told you to stay here. Why the hell didn't you listen?

"Snow, when have you ever been one to give me orders?"

"I've always given you orders! And you _never fucking listen!_ "

"So maybe try a different tactic, love."

Snow groaned and fell backwards onto the big four poster bed. He started to slide off, and readjusted so he lay across the entire mattress on his back. "Stop trying to woo me, Basilton-fucking-Grimm-Pitch."

Baz chuckled, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and pulling his leg up on the cushions to better peer at Snow on the bed, who was glaring at him sideways. 

"It usually works so well..."

Snow's answering smile sent butterflies riveting down his spine.

"Please don't die, Snow. We'll figure this out together."

Simon sighed loudly. "...okay. Fine. Whatever. Can we eat?"

Baz grinned. "Vegetables?"

"No way in hell, Dracula."

They laughed together. Nothing was solved- everything was still in shambles around them- but it was like finding the right corner pieces for a jigsaw puzzle. This was only the beginning. 


	6. The Second Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Surprise surprise, I’m not dead. I know I said I’d be uploading nearly every day, but clearly that’s not gonna happen (we all tell ourselves this, right?) so I’m aiming for 2-3 chapters a week, 1 at the least. I do still have every intention to finish the fic, don’t worry.
> 
> I appreciate your patience and your continuing support for this work (even if you're only reading the smut. I don't blame you).
> 
> Warm Regards,
> 
> Quinn xX

It had been several nights since the Humdrum incident, and things had gone surprisingly smoothly.

The boys were both on edge; Simon's eventual and definite demise looming over their heads. And though they hadn't gone any further than they had after their first lesson, Baz had plans for tonight. They needed something to calm them down, anyways.

But first, the mage would need to learn how to hunt.

"I know you don't like this, Snow, but with your appetite, I'd better teach you now." Baz shoved his arms into his trench coat and laced up his boots.

Snow gave him an incredulous look. "If I ate as much as you say I do, then I'd be tripping over my fat by now!"

"You're full of magic that absorbs your fat."

"That's not even logical, Baz!" Snow bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for Baz to finish his laces so they could get this over with.

He chuckled. "Maybe I exaggerate, but don't think I'll forget the times you took extra food from the dining hall so that you could eat it later at night. It smelled like roast dinner for a _week_ , Snow!"

Simon gave him a sheepish smile and plucked his coat off the hanger by the front door.

It was frigid outside, as it was every night previously. Simon didn't realize how close he was to Baz as they continued their trek to the outer edges of the woods behind the Pitch manor.

"Stop stepping on my feet, Snow."

Simon only pressed himself further into the warmth of him, and Baz's arm came to wrap around his middle. "Okay. Normally I'd catch a rat, but since there's two of us, we'll need to find something larger."

" **Doe, a dear!** " Simon casts.

"No, you idiot! That's _too_ large! You do realize most vampires _aren't_ also mages, right?" Baz huffed. Luckily, Snow was so shit at spells that he hadn't managed to summon a deer, but Baz was still groaning inwardly. Teaching The Chosen One how to do anything sans magic was about as hard as trying to convince Penelope Bunce that she was wrong.

"Fine! You do it!"

"That's kinda the point." Baz started pacing towards the woods.

The lesson went smooth enough. Simon learned how to hunt rats, since there was definitely an abundance of them, but also hares and other various prey. His clothes were dirty at the end of the night, and Baz- screw the lad, honestly- had not a single spot on him.

Back in the manor, Snow went into the washroom as Baz dressed for bed, the sticky scent of petrichor lingering around him. The mage helped himself to a warm shower, which Baz heard through the wall. Though he did feel inclined to join him, Snow needed that space. He needed the time to clear his head, wrap his mind around his forever fleeting existence, and scream sing Bohemian Rhapsody so poorly that Baz actually recorded it.

When he came out, he looked... tired. More exhausted than he usually was. Baz knew he'd need to be careful tonight. He'd need to be gentle. Snow may have been The Chosen One, but he was also just a mage with a ton of pressure on his shoulders. Unless, of course, the rigor that Baz ached to set with Snow helped him keep his thoughts off of everything else.

"You know... I'll never stop yearning to know all the things you wish you said and regret you didn't, all the secrets you give to the stars. I'll never stop loving you, appreciating you, wanting you, Snow."

Simon's eyes were so soft when he looked at Baz, throwing his towel on the floor beside the washroom and climbing into bed in one of Baz's long sleeved shirts. He smiled, a fragile thing, and kissed the vamp gently on his lips.

"You will outlive me."

"Snow-"

"Listen to me, Baz. Even without the Humdrum spilling my lifeblood like a game of 52 pickup, I'm still... broken. Tainted. I'm still going to die; I'll just look like a supernova. You've known this for a long time, too. But... you've given me more life than I was meant to have." A tear slid down his cheek, a tragic soliloquy in itself.

Baz ran his hands over his face and fisted them in his hair, tugging at the locks in frustration. "Stop talking like that. Like we don't have any time. We do, okay? And we're wasting it right now."

Simon pressed a kiss to Baz's ear, running his tongue over the outer lobe and nibbling the cartilage at the bottom. The vamp shivered underneath him, but didn't submit- he wrapped his legs around Snow's waist and flipped them over.

"That's much better," Baz purred in his ear.

Simon tried to swallow his moans as the vamp's right knee jabbed into his crotch. His hands started roaming under Simon's shirt, tweaking his pecks and making artistry of hickeys on his neck. Baz's fangs pulled at Snow's bottom lip.

"Stop pouting and moan for me, Snow. You little slut... you're such a good boy, huh?"

Simon whimpered. The vamp's clothed prick was now rubbing against his own, and the fabric felt much too harsh. He shoved his boxers down and palmed Baz through his own coverings. 

"Oh, Snow, please... fuck..."

Simon knew he was doing this to distract himself from the outside world. But he also _wanted_ Baz- wanted the lad in every way he could get him. So he pulled down the boxers separating their electrified skin and took both of them in his hand. 

He pumped, quick and sure. Baz's moans melded into Snow's, until neither one of them could tell who was making the noises and neither of them cared.

Simon felt so close... but he didn't want this to end so soon. Not after Baz left him hanging last time... 

He pulled himself onto all fours, the mattress shifting under him. His ass stared right at Baz, pink puckered hole loud and proud. "Baz... please fuck me."

The vamp could not believe how lewd the scene was. Honestly, he already knew he'd be jacking off to the mental image of Snow in this position for the rest of his goddamn life. He reached over and grabbed lube from the bedside drawer, rubbed it over his fingers and prepared Snow's cute little ass.

"Nnngg.... Baz..."

He slowed down just long enough for the mage to get situated, and then he pounded into him. He wasn't just searching for his high, he was searching for... _this!_

His rod jammed into Snow's prostate, and the lad underneath him yelped. And then he moaned, long and loud, his tongue slick with saliva and hanging out of his mouth. It was so erotic that Baz had to stop moving completely to come down from his high before he climaxed right then. 

"No... no no no... Baz, you gotta, mmmm! You gotta keep... on..."

Baz grinned at the mage through darkened eyes. "Oh? Shall I Carry On?"

He slowed down and set a miserable pace.

"No! Not like last time, Baz, please..."

"Okay then. I have a better idea."

Baz really was cruel. He started hammering into Simon, with every shred of his being, pounding his prostate and completely milking him. The sheets were soaked with sweat and cum and spit. It was so... dirty.

After Simon came without even being touched (though Baz had been merciless on his little bundle of nerves) the vamp refused to stop. He'd rammed into him until the mage didn't have the exertion to lift himself on all fours, having come several more times. He'd collapsed onto the bed, but Baz still slammed into him, before finally burying himself and coming deep into Simon's ass.

His cock popped out of the lad with a satisfying squelch.

Baz flopped down beside Snow, panting and breathless. His hand wrapped around Snow and cupped his balls and his thumb moved up to rub over the slit on his head.

"Ow! Ow, Baz- sensitive-"

"Oh, sorry." Baz said, continuing to play with Snow's cock until it was hard and bulging again.

"Wh- we just went, Baz! It'll hurt now!"

"So just don't touch yourself." The vamp smirked.

"You know that's not how it works..." Simon grumbled, reaching down to grip his twitching prick.

Baz gripped his wrist and tugged it away, and Snow moaned. "Please... Baz, just this last one... it's all your fault.."

"Here," Baz said, reaching down by the end of the bed and grabbing his Watford tie. He secured it around Snow's wrists and the bedpost within seconds, a devilish grin on his face.

"No!" Simon wallowed. He tried to twist his arms and turn onto his stomach so he could rub against the sheets, but he couldn't make it all the way. He had to lay on his back, resorting to humping the air.

"...nnnggg..... let me... let me come, please..."

"You never paid me for the second lesson, Simon Snow."

His thoughts were so cloudy now, he could hardly understand. "What?"

"You owe me one sexual fantasy of mine. This is just your payment." Baz opened the dreadful bedside drawer again, removing from its depths a little black bud with a string- a _vibrator._ He pushed it into Snow's welcoming ass.

"MMmmmnn.. ha, ha.... oh..."

But then he turned it on- more insistent moaning from the little slut- and positioned it on his prostate. The boy's voice was going scratchy and hoarse.

"Good night, my love."

"Fuck... you... Baz.... nnNG! Ah! OH! Fuck..."

Baz only removed it when Snow started pleading. Needless to say, they'd be sleeping in. 


	7. Simon's Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: NON-CON SEX! PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
> 
> I promise it gets better.
> 
> Quinn xX

Simon really could get used to waking up next to Baz. The lad's arm was draped over his waist, his stomach pressed to the mage's back. They had slept exactly like this nearly every night since the break had started. 

For the life of him, Simon couldn't remember what was supposed to happen today. Did they have a lesson?

"Happy Birthday, Snow," Baz grumbled sleepily.

Simon's cheeks flushed red. _How could I manage to forget that? And why the hell does he remember?_

The mage lifted his palm to Baz's cheek and held it there, soft, lovingly. Like they were the only people to exist in the universe. Gently, Simon leaned in and pressed a kiss to the vamp's parted lips, their fangs chafing until Simon turned his head.

"Mmm..." Baz said, pushing Snow away so he could breathe. "Want to go again so early, love?"

"It's half past noon, Baz."

He started. _Holy shit! We've slept that long?_

Baz slid from the bed, his knees buckling. He caught himself on the four-poster frame, swinging himself around so he could maneuver over the piles of clothes on the floor. When he reached the armoir, he threw the doors wide and reached into the depths.

He pulled out a small box. It had black velvet casing, with a little gold clasp that Baz flipped up.

And there he was, the man he loved, on one knee with a ring presented to him. _Oh, Baz._

"It's a promise ring. It took me a while to find the perfect one; I'm sorry for leaving you stranded when we were shopping last week." Baz smiled sheepishly.

Simon chuckled. "And here I was, thinking you'd been wanking in the loo."

The vamp bit his lip in embarrassment at the notion of such a crude act, but smirked up at Simon regardless. "Would you rather that be the case?"

Snow shoved him. "No! You fanged _beast._ "

The Chosen One looked again at the ring. Then, he closed the little box and set it upon the nightstand.

"You- you don't want to wear it?" 

Baz could see mixed emotions warring in Snow's face. He gripped the blond's hand for comfort and gave him time to reorder his thoughts.

"It's not that I don't want to... but Baz, I can't promise you anything." _Because I'm going to die._

"Snow..." _You don't want this? You no longer want_ me _?_

Simon pulled his hand from the vamp's. "Listen, I..." His palms were sweaty. With every piece of his ever-burning, slowly-deteriorating soul, Snow loved Baz. He did. And because of it, he would do anything to keep him safe. To keep him alive, despite his own definitive demise.

"I need to go."

"What?" Baz said, stricken. "You're... leaving? Snow, _why_?"

"I shouldn't have come, Baz, I'm sorry I've been overstaying..." His eyes were looking everywhere _except_ Baz, the vamp's intensely sorrowful gaze burning a hole in his peripheral vision. 

"Crowley, Simon Snow, _I_ invited _you_."

Simon's hands were shaking. If he didn't leave now, he might even consider staying. Crawling back into bed with the ring on his finger, nuzzling up against Baz....

"I need to get back to Watford."

Baz rose from his crouch and sat on the bed beside Snow. The mage jumped up and started shoving clothes into the various places they went- most of the dirty clothes he threw haphazardly in the hamper, and he picked up his Watford uniform which had-since the beginning of the break- been a waded mess at the bottom of Baz's mattress.

Finally, with his useless wand tucked into his waistband and his Watford uniform on- shirt untucked, vest hanging from his trembling fingers- he reached for the doorknob.

"Snow-"

But he didn't look back.

Simon knew he was crying, despite every footstep that sunk into the deep snow being his choice. Every step away from the Pitch manor was an act of willpower from Simon Snow's very core. _I'm sorry, Baz. I love you. I love you. I love you._ A mantra, a chant, bellowing out in his head. 

_I love you._

_Why can't I go back to being your arch-nemesis? That would have been so much easier. For one of us to destroy the other, it would have been easy. I would have let you win, Baz._

Basilton Grimm-Pitch was feeling, at the moment, very _grimm_ himself. He shoved his fingers into his mussed hair, trying not to breathe. He closed his eyes, and his breathing became shallow.

"AGH!" He screamed to the roof of the manor, flopping onto his back in the middle of his mattress. It felt like he was a child having a temper tantrum. But never before had he felt so... hopeless. So lost.

_Snow, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I went too fast, I became too much, I'm so sorry. Come back to me. I'll try again. I'll do better._

Absently, he pressed his palm to his aching chest. A gentle warmth lit his palm, and he glanced down through watered eyes at the lines in his hand. They were... glowing. Just like Snow's had, the evening of the Humdrum's visit.

"What the fuck _is this?!"_ Baz cried, wanting desperately to find Snow, to make sure he was okay. What did this _mean_?

Some more primal part of the vampire hissed and raged. He wanted to _burn_ everything, go off just like Snow did. He wanted to stain the wood floors of this shoddy manor with blood, a vengeance settling deep inside him. _How could he just leave like that? Was he just messing with my head, all this time?_

_Am I still just his enemy?_

Baz glanced to the nightstand, where the velvet box had been placed. It was gone. _What a fucking lunatic._

The dorm to Watford was spelled open easily, as it always had been. The ring box was stuffed into his pocket, but he'd already slipped the ring onto a dog tag chain he'd kept in in the pocket of his uniform. It shifted against his chest as he made his way upstairs. His body felt so heavy. 

"Hey. You okay?"

Simon turned around. It was the prefect.

His hair was black, too, it almost looked like Baz's. He didn't have the notorious widow's peak, but in Simon's lachrymose state, nearly everything reminded him of Baz. 

Everywhere he looked, he could imagine the vamp. He tried to close his eyes and press his palms into them and open them again. But when he closed his eyes, all he could imagine were the fleeting moments in which he felt like he belonged. He felt loved, cherished, respected as an entity individual from his power. He felt... _happy_. Hopeful.

"Hello? Anybody home?" The prefect had grabbed his arm. His grip was kind of tight.

"Uh, sorry... just didn't sleep well."

"Oh? You want to come to my room?" His face was blurry to Simon, but his hair looked the same. He let out a choked sob. The prefect's sad smile had a hint of malice, maybe, but he couldn't really see anything. He couldn't really _feel_ anything, either, but the nails piercing his arm got through to his senses. 

"Huh?"

"Come with me... I'll make you feel all better..."

Simon wasn't even aware that his feet were moving. But when the prefect closed and locked the door, cast **Fall on Deaf Ears!** and threw the smaller boy on the bed, Simon was hysterical.

"What- please, I- you..."

"Just stay still." He was pulling his belt from the loops.

Simon's breath was picking up. He could still feel the tears falling from his face.

"Just _relax_ , would ya? I already know you been fuckin Baz, you snobby-nosed shit. He won't even _look_ at me anymore... it's all your fucking _fault_."

 _What does he mean?_ The mage's blood was boiling. His fists were clenching. He wanted to go off, but he couldn't- the Humdrum had taken so much from him the last time they'd fought...

So he laid there, strewn about the bed with tears streaking his face, the vulnerable position arousing the prefect.

"Look at how lewd you are...."

His hands were everywhere. They didn't feel like Baz's. They felt... dirty.

But then Simon couldn't imagine that this person was anyone other than Baz. So he went still, and tried to sleep as he was violated beyond repair.

He felt his hair being pulled, rough and harsh hands groping his love handles, shoving themselves into parts of him that he didn't want touched. 

When his body started to react, he wasn't so quiet anymore. He didn't _want_ this, but... if he thought of the man on top of him as Baz, it wasn't so bad. He moaned.

"Oh... what a slut... do it again, you filthy whore..."

So he did. 

And when the prefect had finished, he collapsed beside Snow. 

The mage knew he had bruises on him. He was so sore...

He couldn't bear the thought of returning to his dorm room- feeling that empty, bottomless silence, Baz's scent infiltrating his nose until he couldn't breathe, staring at the spaces where the vamp might magically appear- and so he closed his eyes, right there.

"If you speak of this, I'll ruin your life." The prefect shifted so his back was to Simon's, and his soft snores rolled from his lips not ten minutes after.

"I don't have much longer anyways," Simon mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to feel safe. 


	8. Melancholia

It was... disconcerting, to say the least, when Simon awoke beside the prefect whose name he never cared to remember. His back was turned to Simon. In the Pitch manor, the mage had woken up every morning with Baz's arms around his middle... he had become so fond of the warmth that now, without it... he felt an ache in his chest. He wanted to cry, but there wasn't enough energy in him to really let loose now.

Plus, he'd already made a fool of himself last night. The prefect had seen parts of him that Simon shivered to think about. His dirty eyes and naughty hands that were cold and unforgiving...

Simon squinted at the sun glaring through the curtain-less windows. Upstairs in his dorm, Baz always kept the blackout shades over the window. It wasn't because of the whole vampires-hate-sun myth. It was just because he hated waking up when the world told him to.

That feeling in his chest sunk a little deeper. He couldn't think of a thing he wanted more than Baz right now. But he wanted to keep him safe. _It's for his own good._

So the Chosen One turned his back to the prefect, and when he finally rose to the early morning light and pinned the mage's arms above his head to fuck him senseless, Simon simply imagined Baz's arms holding him, Baz's face peppering kisses against his neck, jaw, ear, and collarbone; he even tried to smell Baz through the stench of sweat and unwashed sheets. But Baz was just as vacant from this place as he was from Simon's now useless life.

The manor was cold, and empty, and when Baz awoke alone in his bed, he nearly sobbed. Slowly, methodically, he pulled on a black pair of joggers and padded down the carpeted steps to the piano forte in the library. He sat himself on the bench, peeled open the cover, and yet... he couldn't play. He couldn't connect the chords. A C-Major scale was almost too much; he played a C, D, E... then his fingers drooped. He tried again, pushing his foot on the peddle to reverberate the sound, but it fell flat anyways.

He didn't know who he was without Snow. 

He wasn't anyone's arch nemesis, he wasn't anyone's rival or enemy, he wasn't anyone's competition. It should've felt nice. But he felt _so useless._

_And it's all my fault._

He knew he didn't believe it. He kept telling himself to be mad, because Snow had made the choice to leave him after all the progress they'd made, but... was it only progress to him? Surely not; mates didn't just kiss each other like they had.

Baz's head hung over the shining ivory keys, and his tears fell from his face like soft rain, dripping onto his stretched fingers which had stilled atop a minor chord. He slammed his fists into the piano, making a jarring and surprising _clang_ throughout the house. He left the cover up, and stormed out of the library.

He had been vulnerable for Snow. He had given him everything.

And the snarky, arrogant ass of the Chosen One left him in the bloody dust.

The prefect was even rougher in the morning. Simon's hips were bruised from the guy's hands, his stomach hurt with increasing intensity, and all of his joints ached dully. There was a deep, settling dismal regret in the corner of his brain. _This isn't what I want. This isn't_ who _I want._

Baz couldn't eat his cereal any more aggressively. And even though he was projecting anger, as soon as his spoon hit the bowl of left over milk, he put his head in his arms and sobbed. It was hard to breathe. _I don't hate him. I just want him back._

Simon's veins started to glow. They were bright, much brighter than the faint glow that they had pulsed the other few times it had happened. The prefect on top of him didn't stop. 

Baz's eyes started to burn, and it wasn't from the tears. 

_I want to go back._

_Come home, Snow. Come home._


	9. Purgatory

Simon woke up to a boy's back, and for a second, he couldn't remember where he was. Panic settled deep into his gut. _Why won't he hold me?_

Simon reached out to touch the silhouette's shoulder, but paused when the light filtering through the curtains caught on his blue and purple wrists.

_Baz doesn't leave the windows open. Baz doesn't hurt me._

(Baz was always so tangled up with Simon that he thought he might piss himself before he made it to the loo.)

Then he remembered everything all over again. This was how he'd awoken every morning since he left the Pitch manor. He'd drift lifelessly through the day, get fucked at night to make him forget it all, and wake the next morning with the same horrifying clarity of his own actions.

When the mage stood up, he felt dizzy. He should probably eat something, shower, and change, but he still couldn't stomach going back to his dorm. _Their_ dorm.

The fluorescent lights were too bright, the scrape of his feet on the shoddy carpet too loud, the ache in his chest too painful. He staggered down the hall on sore limbs, clad in space pajama pants and an old white t-shirt. He made it to the loo, which was gracefully empty; the break still stretched for another week and a half.

Still dragging his feet, now chilled against the pale linoleum, Simon wondered- certainly not for the first or twentieth time- why it had to be him.

_Why can't I just love Baz? Why can't I just have this life with him? Fuck being the Chosen One! What's the point of being a hero-_

He felt like a crater split open his head, searing white pain shooting through his skull. In the next moment, he felt the pull; it was as if everything of worth had been sucked from the air.

He swung his arm out to hold his weight on a bathroom stall.

It felt familiar, at first, and then he recognized it: _The Humdrum. He's back._

He yanked on his arm, swinging himself into a stall, sank to his knees, and emptied his stomach into the toilet. 

Baz was still sleeping when it happened. He jolted awake with a shudder. He couldn't move.

"Took you awhile to greet me today," The Humdrum purred as Simon stepped from the Mummer's house. He hadn't been outside in awhile; he squinted at the sun and huffed, defeated.

"Take whatever the fuck you want and leave." He wanted to yell it, but his voice came out flat. Dead.

"Well, what a surprise! You aren't such a haughty, arrogant bastard as you were the last time we spoke. Where's the grey fellow- Basilton?"

" _You-"_

"Oh, please, I'd rather not associate with their kind. You needn't worry about him," The Humdrum's shaggy overalls moved up and down as he bounced his little red ball. Simon noticed in that instant how pale his skin was, underneath all of his glamor and bravado. For someone not wanting to associate with vampires, he certainly looked like a hypocrite.

Simon felt his magic roaring, shooting through his blood, and through his closed eyelids, he could see the bright yellow light of his veins. This time, though, the color almost resembled lava- red and orange bleeding into the sunny yellow, and he felt _heat_ radiating off of his skin. His nerves were shot, and he felt like he was going to go off, but he _couldn't._

The Humdrum chuckled. "How entertaining you are, Snow! Clenching your fists as if you'll beat me without a wand between them. Though... you're not that skilled with a wand, either, are you? Hmm, Little Mage?"

The Chosen One glared up at the enemy with as much hatred, loathing, and wrath he had in him.

But he just wanted this to end.

" **Is this a dagger I see before me?** " The Humdrum cast, and Simon's wand flung from the waist of his pajama pants. "Ah, there you go! Now use it, Simon Snow!"

He knew he wasn't good at spells. And he wasn't going to win anyways.

" **Hell hath no fury!** " Simon screamed, his voice cracking and hoarse. A weak stream of fire spit from the tip of his wand, still wet from the dewy grass. It was extinguished in seconds with the Humdrum's **Make a wish!**

"Come on, give me more of a show! For such a pretty boy, you're acting remarkably ugly today."

Simon threw his wand at the Humdrum. It flew through the air before stopping mid-trajectory and shot backwards at the mage.

It skewered his left shoulder, a quick impaling.

Baz nearly couldn't breathe through the unexplainable excruciating pain. He was panting unevenly, his fist clamped tightly over his heart. His free hand was buried underneath sweat soaked sheets, and his grip only tightened when another wave of agony rushed across his skin. It felt like fire; anger and sadness and passion, a vendetta being honored. Absentmindedly, he noticed the change in colors of his glowing veins. He thought of Snow. He held tight to the image of the boy he loved. Just in case he found himself in purgatory, he wanted Snow to be the last thing on his mind. 

"You're far too easy to best. Perhaps you should try honing your skills before I come again, Snow."

Simon flinched. "Don't call me that."

"Ohoho, but it's your name, is it not? _Snow?_ "

He growled low in his chest. "Do. _Not._ Call. Me. That." 

Simon stumbled onto two legs, holding his shoulder. It was healing fast- much faster than even his own magic usually worked. 

The Humdrum smirked, and stalked closer to Simon. The mage held his ground. When they came face to face, the Humdrum reached up (he was a version of younger Simon, and therefore shorter... how do such small beings harbor such large amounts of anger?) and caressed Simon's cheek. His eyes were a deep red color, his smoldering gaze locked on the mage. 

"I'll do whatever I please. You won't be here long anyways. And I got what I came for."

His nails dug into the skin on Simon's face, but slackened almost immediately. The Humdrum hissed, pulling away so quickly that Simon didn't have time to process what it meant.

The Humdrum walked behind Simon, and when he turned to face him once again, he had already disappeared.

The pain finally stopped, but Baz stayed still. He was so weak. He just wanted to sleep. So he shut his eyes again.

Simon couldn't move. At some point, the prefect was hoisting his arm over a shoulder, maneuvering them until they had returned to his room. The mage could hardly move. His limbs felt constricted, like they were under a weighted blanket. That night was the first one where the prefect didn't force him. He only passed him a glass of water and some meds, and left some cash out so he could go to town for something to eat.

As hungry as he was, Simon really couldn't move. So he lay still, and let the warmth from his magic seep out. 

The prefect held him when he cried, and that was somehow _worse_ than before.

It was _what_ he needed. But it wasn't _who_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. I hope to complete the fic over break, as I have already planned it through to the end. We'll see how that goes... I don't even have a good excuse, I've just been binging Haikyu. :)
> 
> Hope all is well, and Merry Christmas!
> 
> Quinn xX


	10. Regret

He wasn't going to survive another bout with the Humdrum. Simon knew this. He'd woken up long before the prefect, as he had every day since his return to Watford, and took the cash that had been left out on the nightstand. The mage couldn't bear to look at him- those eyes that had held such loathing and jealousy now filled with bewildered softness. 

He shoved his fists deeper into the pockets of the prefect's denim jacket, one he'd picked up off the floor just like the rest of his clothes (also all stolen goods). The Humdrum had _taken_ something from him last time. He had gouged a hole in Simon's very foundation. But that was the problem: Simon and the Humdrum were one in the same. That’s what had always made sense. Unless the useless mage could find a way to separate his own magical entity from the Humdrum’s endless magic, he would be fertilizer. 

_You still know how this will end._

That’s what the insufferable asshole had said all those nights ago. All the Humdrum ever wanted was more magic, and all Simon was made of _was_ magic.

And he’d give all of his magic up just to continue living, to see Baz’s gentle smirk and feel his hands curled over his hips one last time. Not that he had any magic left to give up anymore… not after yesterday.

Hopefully his combustion would be beautiful. Hopefully it’d kill the Humdrum, and all of this would be over with.

Simon got back to Watford and slammed open the door to the prefect’s room. He would forget it all. He needed to stop himself from loving Baz because he _refused_ to bring him down, too.

_I have always been a means to an end. And Baz… you’re immortal. This would never work._

He was also flammable. Simon really hoped he wouldn't show up when he goes supernova.

The blond shoved his face to the prefect’s- his name was Oliver, apparently, but Simon had snogged him longer than he’d spoken to the bloke- and kissed him, hard. The boy’s hands were on Simon’s hips and they didn’t feel like Baz’s-

_Stop it. Harder, faster, more, get rid of this feeling…_

He pressed his lips harder, ground his hips faster, flung himself completely into the void.

The agony that had plagued Baz on the previous night had now settled to a pulse, licking up his spine every couple of seconds. It wasn't nearly as bad as before- his temples were still soaked with sweat and his spine still ached, but he was okay. He could breathe. But he wasn't sure he wanted to. 

Because he had realized it last night. When he’d touched the Humdrum in his first encounter with the snarling son of a bitch, he’d not just taken magic; he’d taken _Snow_ from him. Aunt Fiona had been careful to conceal magical abilities outside of spells, for they are more dangerous than anything cast with a wand… but Baz had been a curious bastard in his earlier Watford years, and found the scrolls she’d hidden.

He hadn’t done it on purpose.

But Simon Snow and the Humdrum had never been one in the same- not to Baz; he’d always loved the bubbly blond idiot who couldn’t cast spells to save his life and would eat enough food to feed Baz’s whole family. He’d loved him then, and he still loved him now. 

That separation- the enemy and the ally- it had severed something in the Humdrum that kept his hold on Snow. But Baz didn’t know what that _meant_.

They weren’t the same anymore. The Humdrum was definitely still a formidable opponent in a fight, and Snow... 

_Is he as good as a Normal now? If the Humdrum comes again…_

_Oh, Crowley._

Baz pulled himself out of bed with all of the strength he had in himself, and left the manor.

“Ha…” Simon’s whimpers and moans were getting louder and louder. He was in so much pain, but he needed this filthy act to hurt him more. _Wanted_ it to hurt him more. 

The prefect- Oliver- hadn’t questioned Simon when he’d nearly knocked the door off its hinges in his haste to enter the room. He hadn’t looked as reckless or cruel, either; in fact, he’d looked… sorrowful.

_It seems you’re just a means to an end, too._

Simon bounced harder on top of the prefect’s crossed legs, riding his dick that couldn’t satisfy him the way _he_ could. The mage dragged his nails down Oliver’s back and whimpered into his neck. He was so close…

The door slammed open, much to the chagrin of the tousled pair, startling Simon half to death and angering the prefect. This time, the door really _did_ hang from its hinges, the frame of the threshold split with spiderwebbed cracks.

_Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit-_

All of the pieces of himself that Baz had glued together with Snow’s love fell in a shining kaleidoscope of torment and betrayal. That’s right- how could he forget? His story was a tragedy. He _was_ the villian, after all.

“Baz-”

“Shut up,” The vamp pushed out the words as barely more than breaths of air, but Snow immediately stopped.

Baz opened and closed his mouth several times, but he just couldn’t find the words. So he turned his cold, dead eyes upon Snow and filled them with loathing. 

_So he_ is _still my enemy. As close as I came, I will never be more than his arch-nemesis._

He turned around and walked away. He didn’t turn back, every step as deliberate as the ones Snow had taken out of the Pitch manor. 

Simon shrugged the prefect’s hot hands off of him and clamored to the floor. He shoved his pants on, then his shirt, running after Baz as a crumbled and humiliated mess. But he knew it was futile; Baz had left minutes ago, and Simon had sunken into such an inebriated stupor from the severity of the situation that he hadn’t moved for a bit. He had just sat there, letting Oliver coddle him like he was The Chosen One he was supposed to be.

The mage knew he should apologize. He had been using the prefect like a vice- a replacement- but it was what he deserved. He had taken Simon in, showed him Hell after Heaven’s fall, and left him more broken and scared than before.

He had started to pity Simon, at some point.

And Simon _despised_ being pitied.

_I’m such a fucking idiot!_

Simon was screaming it in his mind, over and over, fumbling for his mobile in his pocket. Mercifully, it hadn’t fallen out, but that luck was short-lived: his battery was dead. And there was absolutely no way he’d go back into his room now- no way he’d thrust himself into a position where he’d have to suffocate under _what could have been_. So he pocketed his mobile, returned to Oliver’s room to snag his charger and some change, threw the prefect a glare, and rushed off.

The cafe he ended up at was quiet, and Simon could brood peacefully. His hands were warmed by a steaming mug of cocoa, but his fingers kept leaving the comforting heat to rapidly type messages into his phone- now back to life.

He had called the Pitch manor several times, but of course nobody picked up; then he called Baz’s mobile, left him several voice messages, and spammed his texts. He even tried to spell some handwritten letters to the manor, but no word had gotten back. The only thing he could do now was remember Basilton Grimm Pitch’s face as he opened that damned door, and think: _you came back. You really came back._

Baz had turned his mobile off an hour ago. He had been reading the texts, listening to the voice messages, and nearly scrambling to call the git back until he remembered that he _wasn’t wanted._

It hadn’t registered that Snow had been with Oliver- the bloke probably did it all for revenge, taking Snow to bed in such a vulnerable state. But Baz had heard the distinct sound of Simon Snow’s pretty little moans from down the hall. He had liked it. Wanted it, even. 

_He’s such a fucking idiot._

Baz was still fuming when he made his way downstairs in the Pitch manor for a lonely meal. He nearly slipped on the penultimate step, and slammed his left arm out to catch the railing.

_Bloody hell! What the-_

_Oh._

Despite himself, Baz chuckled, and ran a hand through his mussed locks. “He really can’t spell for shit, can he.”

On the floor sat a letter addressed to Baz himself, from the one and only Simon Snow. He got it to the manor alright- definitely a feat for Snow, Baz was actually quite proud- but he didn’t land it on any surface in particular. Looking around, Baz noticed several other scraps of paper with The Chosen One’s messy scrawl covering torn edge to torn edge in apologies and hope for reconciliation. He actually cackled this time; not a single god damned note landed on a surface that Baz would actually notice if he wasn’t deliberately looking for it.

The vamp gathered all of the notes and read through them during his dinner, feeling simultaneously less alone and more alone than he’d ever felt in his life.

Simon couldn’t sleep. He was in Penny’s room- certainly not allowed, but she’d gone home for Christmas and wouldn’t be surprised to find him lounging there anyways. Every time Simon closed his eyes, he saw the Humdrum. Or a grave, or a really angry, really lovely vampire, and none of it was helping Simon prepare for his inevitable battle or his unending heartbreak. So he rolled over, hands trembling with the fear of death and damnation and darkness and his own turmoil, and waited to fall asleep again.


	11. Talk to Me

Simon couldn't take it anymore. He knew he'd royally fucked up, but Baz had been leaving the bloke on read. He couldn't tell if it was deliberate or not- he figured that the messages were still sending, so his number hadn't been blocked yet, and he sorta doubted that the apologies he'd sent via spell had made it to the vamp. But Baz really needed to answer Simon so he could _fix_ this. He'd still protect Baz. He wasn't entirely sure how, but he was also at a point where he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to spend however long he had left simping for his ex-arch-nemesis, and he wasn't even ashamed.

Not in the slightest.

After nearly a week of no replies, Simon left his hovel in Penelope's room to seek out the love of his life. He was positive that he'd be rejected, but he was nothing if not _annoyingly persistent._

The Pitch Manor looked the same. Nothing drastic had happened, as it had been merely weeks since Simon left. But still, the atmosphere to the place had shifted ever so slightly. Like this place was less a home and more a battleground. 

Was it all in his head? Probably. Maybe it was the vampire blood now coursing through his veins which he hadn't stopped to think about in weeks. He still got his blood, sure- often sloppily, as Baz had always been the hunter, but Oliver had never asked questions when he'd taken the Chosen One to bed with a bloody t-shirt. He usually just tore off the shirt and pressed gentle kisses to his collarbones. That bloke really had changed, too, and Simon was a little scared that he had broken him... but it wasn't his concern.

This world was broken, and he was the Chosen One, so he'd need to fix it.

But he needed to fix the hearts he broke in the process. His own, and...

"Baz!" Simon yelled up the steps of the Pitch Manor. He slammed the knocker down three times, huffing under his breath. As hypocritical as it was, Simon wanted to yell _Prick!_ up at the window he knew led to Baz's enormous room. 

_You're a prick for making me fall in love with you! I could have accepted my ending if I hadn't started wanting to_ live _for you!_

Simon kept knocking.

Baz had been passed out at the dining room table when his family came home. They had come home to find him with half his face in a bowl of untouched cereal, which had become a regular for the vamp, but of course the Pitch family had never seem him so unkempt (or, in his case, _heartbroken)_.

Baz knew that when he walked away from Snow, he was going to regret it. Maybe he hadn't necessarily thought of it at the time, but he definitely knew that he had had to leave- if he had stayed, Oliver probably wouldn't have such a pretty face anymore.

Because Snow really was the only one he could love. And he really, really hated that. It made him feel _weak._ The Pitch family wasn't supposed to be weak.

"Basilton? Love, what's wrong?" His mother swooped into the dining room, leaving her luggage to be dragged through the foyer by his father. She handed him a few paper towels from the roll right in front of him to clean the milk off of his face. He would be more embarrassed if he didn't feel so damn tired.

"Ah... I must have dozed off." _No, shit._

He could tell his mother wanted to dote on him further, so he stood before she could squawk again. He did appreciate her, really, it's just... he couldn't stand to be his usual self today.

He felt like an empty husk, a shell of what he once was.

That's what Simon Bloody Snow had done to him. Crowley.

He turned to the stairs, but nearly wet his pants at the loud banging of the knocker and the sickeningly-sweet voice.

"Baz!"

The vamp turned to look at his parents. They, of course, had never had a good relationship with Simon Snow, and knew at once who was knocking on their door.

"What did you _do_ , Basilton?" His father's cold gaze swept across him, but Baz couldn't have been more apathetic.

Simon Snow was back.

He was at his door.

Baz, in his pajama pants and old white tee, mumbled something about 'dunno what for' to his father, and stepped out into the melting snow. 

Speaking of snow....

Crowley, he was pretty. A pretty boy, that's the only way Baz could describe him. And it broke his heart all over again.

"Baz..." It was a whisper on his stupid, pretty little lips.

"Please... please let me talk to you."

Snow was always arrogant. Always cocky, always boasting, always _confident._ His confidence was the exact reason Baz had always envied the lad. But in this moment, he looked as defeated and tired as Baz felt, and he was _nervous._ His hands kept raking through his hair, fiddling with his jacket's zipper, shoving his fists into his pockets.

"Okay," Baz breathed, shifting on his feet and sitting on the cold stone steps beneath him. “Talk to me.”

Snow looked- well, Crowley, he looked relieved, but he shouldn't be, right? Had he not just come back to mock him?

Baz knew he would never. Maybe that's why he felt so... hopeful.

"Baz, I... I- well, I want you- no, fuck, I _need_ you to know that I was not in bed with that bloke to get revenge. I wasn't doing it to get back at you," Snow's hands started shaking and he shoved them between his thighs. "I wouldn't do something that petty. Maybe I would, but not to you. Not... not anymore." He was kinda rambling, wasn't he? Why was it so cute? "I- I'm sorry. I know that doesn't fix what you saw, but... bloody hell, Baz, it hurt so much and it felt good because I couldn't stop wanting to be punished for leaving you, for walking out like that, but then his hands started to feel like yours, and then everything felt better... Let me go back. I didn't leave you because I didn't love you."

This.... this was a lot of information. "I- Snow, what?"

"I didn't leave you... because I didn't love you."

"What does that mean?" Baz couldn't look him in the face, but he stared at his bare feet turning red from the cold. 

"I love you. That's....that's what it means."

Baz whipped his head up. He stared at that mussed, golden hair, the acne spotting his cheeks, his pretty, pretty lips, and then met his eyes. "I-"

"Listen, Baz. I have to say this before you leave again- before you go up there and lock your bedroom door and I fall apart without you. _I love you_. I'm not saying this to get you to forgive me. What I did was horrible, letting him touch me like that... and I _never left you because I didn't love you._ Baz, I left you simply because I did not want to take you down with me. I still don't. But I need you, Baz, I _want_ _you_ more than anything. If I die soon, I want to die with the smell of you in my clothes and the sound of your laugh in my ears, I want to die with your hand in mine, I want to die with the taste of your lips on mine, Baz, I-"

He couldn't help it. Baz reached out, timidly, and cupped the lad's cheek. He never got to finish his soliloquy. 

Baz crashed his lips against Snow's, pulling him closer and closer. " **I love you, too**."

Finally, Baz pulled back. He brushed falling tears from the boy's face. "You never owed me anything, Snow. Not after you walked away."

He looked Snow in the eyes again, drowning in that fiery blue. It wasn't an ocean, nor a sky, nor a royal cobalt. It was _fiery_ blue, full of passion. "We both felt it, Baz. Just because we didn't put a label on it doesn't mean I should have done what I did."

Baz pressed a kiss to his temple, whispering. "I thought you didn't love me. But here you are. You came back. Where did you put the ring?"

"Ah. I'm sorry... I couldn't help wanting to keep a piece of you with me." Snow pulled a chain out from under his jacket. There it was, the ring Baz had given him for his birthday.

The vamp felt something shift inside him. Mending. Creating. _Fixing_. "Snow, say it again."

"What?"

"Say 'I love you.'"

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again..."

"Baz, I love you-"

He wanted to die with the taste of Snow's lips on his, too.


	12. The Last Lesson

Simon and Baz had come back to Watford. There was still the weekend before school started, and Simon's nerves were shot. He knew the Humdrum would come for him before the new quarter. He'd always loved to make everything a debacle, and what better than to snatch up the Chosen One right after a break, so everyone would know exactly what had happened when they found a dead zone hovering over Watford itself.

But until that time came...

"Your bed is so soft." Simon nuzzles deeper under the black duvet, his own navy sheets in need of a good wash and left cold on the other side of the room. He hadn't slept in his own bed since their return to the school (they had opted to stay at Watford since Baz's parents had a strict No-Foe policy at the Pitch Manor) and had been stealthily avoiding the lurking presence of Oliver downstairs.

"We have the same mattresses, Snow," Baz chuckled into his hair. His arms were wrapped around Simon's middle, the blond's back against his chest, and every exhale sent shivers down Simon's spine.

"But yours is just... better," he says, turning to face the vamp and tucking his chin into his shoulder. Baz's arm must be getting numb at this point, but he hadn't complained.

"Okay, love. Whatever you say." Baz smiles fondly, peppering Simon's unruly curls in soft kisses. Simon's chest felt tight, bursting with affection for this boy he'd nearly lost or his own mistakes.

They lay quietly for awhile longer, until Baz breaks the silence.

"You know I love you, right?" Baz asks.

Simon turns around and Baz is looking at him. Baz is staring at him like he'd the most precious thing to ever walk the earth. So Simon smiles back. "Yeah, I know."

It's soft, this moment between them. Baz leans down and plants kisses on Simon's nose, cheeks, eyelids, forehead, and finally...he reaches down and presses their lips together. Simon giggles into it, and the vamp pulls back, confused.

"Huh?"

"You just... you're so _cute,_ bloody hell-"

"Cute?" Baz pushes Simon onto his back and traps him between his knees. The vamp nuzzles his face into Simon's neck, dragging his tongue along the column of his throat, nipping teasing bites across his collarbones. "I'd like to be remembered as hot, actually. There's such a difference between those, you know. Cute-" Baz pecks Simon's jaw- "pretty-" runs his hands down to his hips- "and _hot_." Baz pushes his palms up under Simon's shirt and shoves his knee against the boy's crotch.

"Nnnng... Baz..." His hands are gripping the bedsheets and his back is arching off the mattress he was so keen to compliment earlier.

Baz's hands pulled gently at the waistband of his pajama bottoms, asking for permission.

Simon fell back into the soft sheets, his hands shaking. A terrified expression flashed across his face, and then he made a sound as if he were _wounded._ The vamp stilled his wandering hands and lifted worried eyes to Snow's face.

"I-I'm sorry-" Simon's tears began to drip, and his hands were trying to cover his face, trying to hide this weakness of the person who was meant to be the absolute strongest.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Snow."

Baz didn't know what to do. He lowered himself in the space between Snow and the wall.

Simon turned away from him, his shoulders shaking. The vamp pulled him closer, and when he rocked towards him, Baz could see the lad's wet face.

Seeing those tears... it hurt Baz. It hurt him bad.

He kissed Snow, gently, as if he could break.

"It's okay, love. You want your last lesson?"

Snow was quiet. 

"I'm going to teach you how to love yourself."

Simon looked up. He huffed, trying to breathe through his tears. He nodded.

_Oh._

Oliver had done this in hopes to shatter Baz's never-ending adoration for Simon Snow, the Chosen One, his own arch-nemesis and the biggest nuisance of his entire life. Here was the piece of shit himself, lying in his bed, curled into a ball as far away from the prefect as he could get. Facing the wall rather than Oliver.

He didn't think he'd start to _care_.

But now he understood. He was just a means to an end.

He had become attached, and like paper glued too soon in the wrong place, he would tear when Simon left.

_This is why Baz wanted you._

It wasn't because he was the Chosen One. 

It wasn't because of his perfections. It was because of his _imperfections_.

It was inevitable, really, that Oliver had fallen in love. He'd spent too long around the lad.

Honestly, they were more alike than he ever wanted to believe. And that's why he had fostered such a hate for this little blond boy, shaking softly in his sleep.

Simon was gripping the covers and tears streamed down his face, but Oliver couldn't touch him. This boy wasn't his.

_I shouldn't have done this..._

But it was too late. Oliver would never win, and he most certainly destroyed his chances in his grief. 

_I could have accepted my ending if I hadn't started wanting to live for you..._


End file.
